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OTTAWA—Some of the most interesting things in politics happen when people venture out of their comfortable, partisan zones.

Prime Minister Stephen Harper is always more interesting when he tries to see the world through the eyes of his non-believers. His most effective cabinet ministers these days — Human Resources Minister Jason Kenney, Foreign Affairs Minister John Baird and Transport Minister Lisa Raitt —tend to see a wider world beyond the Conservative “base.”

This column was going to be a reflection on those examples, especially as Canadian politics is increasingly dominated by serious global issues — war, disease, terrorism — that require thinking beyond petty, domestic partisanship.

But a death in the Ottawa family this week has also served to make that point, perhaps more vividly.

When I was interviewed for the Ottawa bureau chief’s job at the Star more than 11 years ago, the national editor at the time was a smart, savvy veteran of the political-reporting trenches.

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We talked about what it took to last a long time in politics, or more correctly, what endured. In a nutshell, it came down to an ability to build networks across partisan and journalistic divides; to always remember that politics is a small, interconnected — sometimes unexpectedly so — web of relationships.

I cited my favourite example of this phenomenon, distilled into one family: the Andersons.

When I was reporting on politics in the mid-1990s, three different Anderson brothers worked for different parties. Rick Anderson was chief adviser to Reform Party leader Preston Manning; Bruce Anderson was a senior adviser to Manning’s rival, Progressive Conservative leader Jean Charest; and Jim Anderson, their younger brother, was a loyal Liberal. Blair Williams, Rick’s father-in-law, had been executive director of the Liberal party when Rick met his daughter, Michelle, fell in love and married her.

In 2003, my soon-to-be boss, hinting strongly that I’d be hired, said he wanted me to write a feature about the Andersons once I started at the Star. Of course, as it turned out, other things always came up. When my editor retired after his long, respected career at the Star, he joked in one of his farewell emails to me: “And you never wrote that Anderson story.”

So here it is, sort of.

Jaimie Anderson was the eldest daughter of Rick Anderson and Michelle Williams. In 2010, when she was just 23, Jaimie died of a rare cancer. In Jaimie’s name, an annual internship in Parliament has been established, with the specific goal of showing three young people each year the better side of politics — the kind of thing that my old boss and I discussed at the job interview.

The big fundraiser for that Jaimie Anderson internship is held at the Black Sheep Inn in Wakefield in late September every year. It’s now the best social occasion on the political calendar. It features journalists and politicians of all stripes performing on stage, dancing and mingling until the wee hours.

Last weekend, we all gathered again at the Black Sheep and as always, everyone had a wonderful, non-partisan time. Yet there was a shadow hanging over the gathering. Michelle Williams, Jaimie’s mother, could not attend. That awful disease, cancer, was taking her away from us.

Michelle died this week. She had just turned 52.

But she packed a lot into that half century — a life of friendships and family immersed in politics, but without the silly partisanship or theatrical rivalry that characterizes too much of Ottawa these days.

Michelle’s friends were Liberals, Conservatives, New Democrats, Reformers and Progressive Conservatives; young and old; journalists, lobbyists, political aides and interns. With wit, warmth and a no-nonsense practicality, Michelle could juggle strong opinions and strong friendships simultaneously.

When her heart was breaking over the illness and loss of her daughter, Jaimie, many of us in that huge circle were kept in the loop with her beautifully written updates to her network. Across the country, we’d all be sitting at our desks or at our kitchen counters, shedding tears and comforting her and each other through the magic of “reply all” emails. Many friendships forged through that connection are still enduring, across all kinds of partisan divides.

This is the story of the Andersons; not the cancer that claimed the lives of two of its most lovely women. Illness can spread, but not as quickly as friendships. And illness ends; relationships built on mutual respect — yes, even heartbreak — do not.

Over the last year, Michelle and her family were repeatedly reminding us to seize moments while we could; to live life while we had it to the fullest. In political life, following the Anderson example means seeking out people and events where they’re most interesting — regardless of where that lands you on the spectrum.

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